The Second Assistant
by purpleann
Summary: Modern AU. Sansa Stark and her rival Margaery Tyrell compete for their boss's favor and the attentions of their boss's oldest son. When things don't go as Sansa expects, she is forced to reevaluate her priorities. Pre-relationship. With Special Guest Star Jeyne Poole as Sansa's texting buddy!
1. The Demotion

_LadySansa:_

_Omg u will not believe this! The world hates me. The old gods & the new have cursed me. _

_JeyneP:_

_This is karma for the McQueen minidress, u know. _

_JeyneP:_

_jk what happened? _

_LadySansa:_

_Sweetling, envy is unladylike. & I cant believe u r still complaining when I got u the gold Jimmy Choos. Also u know that McQueen is adorbs on me!_

_JeyneP:_

_whatevs im into maxis now anyway. WHAT HAPPENED. WHY RU CURSED_

_LadySansa:  
UGH that b* stole my job! _

_JeyneP:_

_whaaa? I thought C liked u more than MT?_

_Lady Sansa: _

_well C told us in a meeting just now that MT is 1A now & Im 2A. Can u believe it? _

_JeyneP:_

_wth no way! Did C say why? _

_LadySansa:_

_As if. Like there has to be a reason with C. I have 2 go. mtg ending now. More later!_

_JeyneP:_

_WAIT! Is J there? Is he still ur date 4 the thing?_

_LadySansa:_

_UGH I didn't even think of that! I hope she doesn't think she can have my date too! _

Sansa put away her BlackBerry and pasted a smile on her face, and started settling in at her new desk. She was proud that she didn't break down during the staff meeting, because she didn't want to give Margaery Tyrell the satisfaction. The shock of her demotion to second assistant was still very fresh, however. Sansa racked her brains, trying to remember any mistakes she made in the last few weeks, but there was _nothing_. Cersei was never really shy about expressing her displeasure when she was unhappy with something, but there had been nothing (nothing more than usual, anyway) in the last few weeks. Sansa couldn't imagine why Cersei would want Margaery as her first assistant.

Sansa took her job at the House of Lannister very seriously. She knew what a great opportunity it was to work for Cersei, and she did her absolute best every day. Sansa loved fashion, and in Westeros, Cersei was the Queen of Fashion. Any job at all in the House of Lannister was a job that any girl would kill for, but to be Cersei's first assistant was the most coveted position of all_,_ and Sansa knew how lucky she was to work on the 37th floor of Lannister Worldwide headquarters.

Sometimes it even seemed like Cersei really liked her. Last month she introduced Sansa to her oldest son Joffrey, who everybody knew was an up-and-coming politician, due to inherit both his father's enormous political dynasty and his mother's enormous wealth. Sansa was _beyond thrilled_ when he asked her to accompany him to an annual Founder's Ball for The Seven that would be held next week. It was the sort of event that Sansa would never have been invited to had she not worked for Cersei. People were rumored to do shocking things to secure tickets to this event, and not only would Sansa be attending, she would be on the arm of Joffrey Baratheon! Sansa couldn't believe her luck, it was like she was living in a song!

After accepting enthusiastically, she could barely wait for Joffrey to leave the office before she whipped out her BlackBerry to text Jeyne with the word-for-word conversation. But that was a week ago...and now that Sansa was only second assistant, she couldn't help but wonder if Cersei would rather have _Margaery_ on her son's arm, when all of Westeros would have their eyes on him.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sansa glanced at the brunette through the glass door of Cersei's office. Margaery was pretty enough, Sansa supposed, but nothing that special. She wasn't any better at her job than Sansa was. What did Cersei see in her? Why did she get the first assistant position? Would Cersei set her up with Joffrey as well?

Sansa frowned slightly when she saw the smug smile on Margarey's face as she left Cersei's office. She walked straight over to Sansa's desk rather than her own, and Sansa was ready with a pleasant smile, even though the last thing she wanted to do in the world was have a chat with the girl who stole her job.

"Listen, Sansa...I just hope there's no hard feelings," Margaery said, her brown eyes wide and sincere. "We're still co-workers after all, and I'm going to need your help to keep Cersei's affairs in order, even if I am first assistant now, and you're second assistant. I hope we can still be friends."

Here she smiled prettily, and Sansa wondered what she could be talking about. It wasn't as if they had been friends when their positions were reversed. Sansa was always courteous, of course, but she got the impression that Margaery had never liked her. Why should they pretend to be friends now? But Sansa prided herself on her excellent manners, so of course that's not what she said.

"Of course, Margaery I enjoy working with you, and I know you'll do a fantastic job as first assistant. Please let me know if you have any questions. I want to help as much as I can." Sansa made sure to smile as sincerely as she could.

Margaery gave her another smile, and nodded slightly in that dismissive way that she had picked up from Cersei. She swirled and returned to the other side of the room, back to her desk, which used to be _Sansa's_ desk. It was bigger and nicer, and had the newer computer with the giant monitor, and more file cabinets, not to mention a gorgeous view of King's Landing. Sansa's desk, on the other hand, which used to be _Margarey's_ desk, was smaller and had an old, slow computer running Windows 98, and only had a view of the coffee maker.

Cersei never drank coffee (she said it was vulgar and common), but she demanded that a steaming hot pot be ready pretty much all day long, in case she had guests who wanted some. As second assistant, that would be Sansa's primary duty at the House of Lannister, keeping the coffee hot for theoretical guests. Just yesterday, she was Cersei's first assistant, in charge of her schedule, on hand for all her important appointments, and Margaery was the one making coffee. One staff meeting could change so much!

"Oh, one other thing, Sansa?" Margaery called across the room from her lovely, ergonomically designed leather chair (that used to be Sansa's). "I'll need you to run down to the Street of Silk to pick up samples for Cersei. Normally I'd be happy to go, but I have to get fitted for a new dress for the Founder's Ball. Cersei just told me she wants Joffrey to escort me!"

Margaery beamed, as if Sansa should be excited to hear this news. How she could look so innocently happy when she _knew_ that Sansa was supposed to be Joffrey's date? She was right there in the room when he asked!

Sansa felt tears prickle the back of her eyes, but she was determined not to cry in the office. "Of course, Margaery, no problem. I'll just run out and get them now." Sansa forced another smile, and grabbed her bag while rushing to the elevator, wondering at her chances of making it down all 37 floors without anyone seeing her cry.

Miraculously, she enjoyed a solo elevator ride, and managed to hold out until the seventeenth floor before fully bursting into tears. The whole thing was so _unfair_. If only she knew what she had done _wrong_, why she deserved a demotion and the humiliation of going to the Founder's Ball without a date. She knew there was no way Cersei would let her skip it...public appearances were very important at House of Lannister, and Cersei had let the entire senior staff know that attendance at the ball was mandatory. If life were fair, she'd be sitting at home with Jeyne and eating Ben & Jerry's and cursing Margaery. Sansa could already picture the smug look on the brunette's face when Sansa showed up without a date. The ball was only seven days away, and she knew she wouldn't be able to find another date in time. She was always at work!

The doors pinged softly, and opened onto the polished marble lobby of 1 Kings Landing. The building towered stories above all others in Kings Landing Square, and was a shining glass and steel monument to the wealth and power of the Lannister family. Just walking across the lobby was intimidating; the gigantic red and gold lion of the Lannister Worldwide logo on the wall seemed to stare down scornfully on all who passed by.

Sansa was about to head towards the tall glass doors of the main entrance, when she caught sight of a familiar head of golden curls. She froze in disbelief, and wondered how this day could possibly get any worse. The _last thing_ she wanted right now was for Joffrey to see her all splotchy and sniffly from crying! If Sansa was braver, she'd march up to him and demand to know why he was ditching her for Margaery Tyrell. But Sansa didn't feel brave at all, she was distraught, and did the only thing she could think of: she ducked behind a giant potted plant near the bank of elevators, and hoped it would be enough to hide her.

She watched him approach the elevators, trailed as ever by his gigantic personal security guard. Although Joffrey's whole family was very important politically, he was the only one who seemed to have a round-the-clock bodyguard. Sansa supposed it was because he was the heir to the fortunes of _two_ important families, not just one. There was no question that Joffrey knew how important he was, just from the way he strutted across the lobby. Sansa couldn't help but wistfully sigh a bit from behind her plant.

Even through her confusion and sadness, she couldn't deny the fact that Joffrey was beautiful. He had his mother's gorgeous, sunny blond locks, which he wore slightly long, so that the ends just curled a bit over his ears. He was so handsome that the effect wasn't juvenile on him at all. His fantastic looks and winning smile made him look every inch the important politician he was destined to become.

The two of them continued across the lobby, Joffrey's bodyguard looming hugely behind him, until they stopped right in front of Sansa's plant. She held her breath, and crouched down a bit to better hide herself. She couldn't help but peek through the leaves a little, trying to get a glimpse of Joffrey's amazing green eyes. That's when she heard him tell his bodyguard that he was no longer needed for the day, and that he was dismissed.

Joffrey continued into the elevator without a backwards glance, and Sansa stepped out from behind her plant, relieved to have avoided that embarrassing encounter. But a moment later, she realized she really _was_ living the worst possible day, because she ran directly into the hard chest of a man in a black suit who was at least 6'4", and was smirking down at her from a terribly scarred face.

Sansa's cheeks drained of color. She knew Joffrey's body guard, his name was Sandor Clegane, and he seemed to always be scowling or smirking. The last time they met, he had made terrible fun of her for no good reason. She couldn't imagine what he would say _now_, after finding her hiding behind a plant in the lobby of Lannister Worldwide headquarters, eyes red from crying.

"Hiding in trees now, little bird?" His face twisted into a mocking grin, and Sansa felt like crying all over again. She stood frozen for just a moment, but before he could say anything else mean, she darted around him and ran for the back of the lobby, deciding to go out the back way instead. She could hear his deep scratchy laughter, and it made her cheeks burn in embarrassment.

Her errand would take longer this way, as navigating the warren of hallways on the ground floor required constant security checks. The main entrance was much closer to the Street of Silk, but the extra time was worth it; Sansa needed to be alone, and didn't want to risk running into anybody else.

As she swiped her employee access card through yet another security door, she recalled her last meeting with Sandor Clegane. As always, he had accompanied Joffrey on a visit to see his mother. Joffrey had been so nice to Sansa that day. He spent nearly ten minutes chatting with her, sitting on the edge of her desk, and telling her all about the things someone as important as he was did with his time. Sansa was thrilled at the attention, and couldn't help smiling and nodding along with Joffrey's tales of his exploits, offering supportive comments whenever she could. She knew men liked women to be impressed with them, but her fascination was _sincere_. After all, Joffrey was _very_ impressive.

After he went into Cersei's office, Sandor Clegane remained outside the glass doors on guard, and smirked at her. Sansa felt it was terribly rude of him to stare like that, especially because they were strangers, and she suspected he was making fun of her. She had _politely_ inquired as to what seemed to be amusing. He said something mean about her chirping on command, "just as prettily as Joff's other birds", and wondered if she was just as silly as the others as well. Luckily Margaery was out on some errand, or Sansa would have surely died of embarrassment.

What a thing to say to a total stranger! Sansa had been completely shocked into silence, and Sandor Clegane seemed to be extremely satisfied with this response. What could he mean by "Joff's other birds"? And why should she be silly? What was silly about wanting a prominent person like Joffrey to like her? Sansa frowned as she recalled the exchange, and furiously wiped away tears as she made her way through the labyrinthine guts of the Lannister Worldwide building.

Finally, she swiped her card one last time, and found herself outside on a paved driveway in an alley behind the building. It was wide enough to accommodate both delivery trucks and employee parking spots for the security staff, and stretched the entire width of the building.

A small group of men were off to the right smoking cigarettes and talking, and to the left, right next to the path that would lead Sansa on her way to the Street of Silk, was Sandor Clegane. Sansa gasped at seeing him again so soon, and instinctively took a step backwards, happy to find that doing so hid her in the shadow of the building. She didn't want him to see her again, but curiously, she found that she couldn't look away. He looked different.

She didn't realize he had such long hair. He must normally wear it tied back, because now it hung in front of his face in a black curtain past his shoulders. It hid his terrible scarring, but Sansa knew it was Sandor; nobody else on the security staff was that tall and that broad.

His clothes were different too...well, not that different. He was still dressed in head-to-toe black, but now he was wearing a black leather jacket instead of his usual suit jacket. Sansa found herself very intrigued by his casual clothes, and slowly inched forward, trying to get a better look. She was a student of fashion, after all.

He was sitting on a big black motorcycle, messing with the straps on his helmet, which was painted with the image of a terrifying snarling dog's head – or maybe it was a wolf. Sansa had never ridden on a motorcycle before, and wondered what it was like. The machine seemed huge; she supposed it would have to be for a man as big as Sandor, but Sansa couldn't imagine controlling such a beast of a bike on her own. _It would probably be easier to ride with someone else,_ she thought to herself.

Sansa was checking out the shiny chrome on the motorcycle when she heard his low, raspy voice. She should've known she'd get caught staring.

"Are you following me, little bird? Aren't you supposed to fetch something for Cersei? Maybe find someone important to chirp at? Why don't you stop staring and run along!"

Sansa honestly had no clue why he was always so cross, but decided not to run away again. She opened her mouth to tell him she had as much right to be out there as he did, but at that moment he started the engine, and Sansa jumped at bit, startled by how loud it echoed in the alley.

Sandor threw back his head and laughed, and Sansa cursed her skittishness. She had no idea they could be so loud! He revved the engine again, and laughed at her startled expression. Then he put on his snarling dog's head helmet and rode away.


	2. One Week Later

**A/N: Hi all, this story was originally for a fic exchange ages ago. I've shamelessly borrowed from "The Devil Wears Prada" for the basic frame, but let's be real, it's all an excuse for Sansa and Sandor to encounter each other in a modern setting. Hope you enjoy! :)**

* * *

_LadySansa:_

_I can't believe how my life has totes gone 2 hell in only 7 days._

_JeyneP:_

_Yeah, but I bet you look better than MT does. Take a pic of her with your phone! I want 2C what she's wearing!_

Sansa rolled her eyes, and wondered how Jeyne could be concerned about Margarey's dress at a time like this. Why did she not understand that Sansa's _whole world_ had been turned upside down?! Jeyne was right about one thing, though...Sansa looked _amazing_! She was wearing the gold minidress from Cersei's most celebrated collection, her first one after marrying Robert Baratheon, and considered by many to be her best. The color and shine set off Sansa's red hair perfectly, and showed off her long legs to perfection. It was considered "vintage Lannister," and was the sort of look that made Cersei famous: a little bit sexy, without being vulgar.

She hadn't seen Margaery's dress up close yet (_obviously_ Sansa was avoiding her...and Joffrey), but it appeared to be based on a sample from the upcoming collection. No doubt Margaery felt clever and special, wearing something so _exclusive_ and completely new, but Sansa knew not everything _new_ was automatically _better_. The collection was very medieval-inspired, with lots of dramatic dagged sleeves and sweeping skirts. Sansa privately felt Margarey wasn't tall enough to pull off the look, but of course she didn't _say so_ to anyone, even though she had plenty of opportunity. The red carpet press had made much of Sansa wearing _vintage_ and Margarey wearing something so new it wasn't even _out yet_, but Sansa had repeatedly refused to comment. Courtesy was a lady's armor, after all.

Sansa was currently hiding behind the bandstand in the foyer of the legendary Baelor Center, which hosted the annual Founder's Ball for The Seven. She was completely humiliated at having to attend the social event of the year _without a date._ But Jeyne could not focus on the gravityof the situation, and instead kept asking about what everybody was wearing. As if clothes were the only thing that mattered (even though Sansa was _clearly_ best dressed)!

Jeyne was completely unsympathetic, and even seemed impressed when Sansa texted her that Loras Tyrell had asked her to dance. Jeyne had _completely missed the point,_ and went on and on about his eyes and his hair and and how tall and handsome he was. She just did not get how _obvious_ it was that Margaery had put him up to it, and how insulting that was.

Sansa stuffed her BlackBerry into her tiny Fendi minaudiere and frowned. Loras was certainly a great looking guy, at least as handsome as Joffrey. But Sansa knew he wasn't genuinely interested in her. He kept looking over her shoulder as they danced, as if he was looking out for someone else to spend time with. It was rude and made Sansa feel silly. She knew it would be futile to explain to Jeyne via text that she wasn't much impressed with Loras _or _Joffrey these days.

Sansa retreated further into the shadows behind the bandstand, and slipped behind a curtain wall, grateful for a place to truly hide. Normally she loved a big party, but since last week, _everything_ was different. The fact that life could so drastically change, beyond her control, and without any warning whatsoever, was truly unsettling. Dancing with handsome men and gossiping about what people were wearing just didn't seem important anymore.

As she wandered among the snaking black cables of the band's audio equipment, she remembered how thoroughly Joffrey had ignored her each time he appeared in the office over the last seven days. The difference in his behavior was almost unbelievable! Sansa was ashamed she had ever been impressed by him, knowing now how he could be so disingenuous.

With the way her life was going lately, Sansa had begun to expect that _in general_, things would not go her way. Therefore she was hardly surprised to find Sandor Clegane, of all people, slumped against the back wall behind the bandstand, just at the moment she really wanted to be alone.

Sandor seemed equally unsurprised when he looked up as she approached. But upon closer inspection, Sansa decided his blank stare was actually due to extreme drunkenness, and wondered if he recognized her at all. He sat on the floor with a half full bottle of wine in one huge hand, and two empty bottles overturned next to him. His usually pristine black suit was rumpled, and his tie was missing, with the shirt unbuttoned half way. His black hair was loose and settled around his shoulders, but didn't hide his horrible scarring.

Sansa took the opportunity to really look at his scars. They ruined one side of his face, and were quite grim, but Sansa thought it wasn't the _scars_ that made him so intimidating. It was his gruff attitude and the ever-present scowl. Sitting there staring off blankly, he was hardly scary at all. She wondered what made him so surly, and gave him such an unpleasant disposition. Considering his job, she supposed it was probably a good thing that he was that way; but Sansa decided she wasn't scared of him. Certainly not while he was half way through a third bottle of wine.

He leveled his blank stare in her direction, and took a long drink of wine. Sansa waited patiently for recognition to set in, and the rude comment she was sure would follow. He seemed intent on finishing the bottle in one swallow, and privately Sansa disapproved of such indulgence in alcohol. She was far too polite to say so, of course, although she suspected he would appreciate neither her disapproval, nor the courtesy of keeping it to herself.

Finally the bottle left his lips, and clanked to the floor, still clenched in his fist. Surprisingly, there was still a bit of wine left in the bottom. "What's this? Pretty little Sansa Stark all alone. No date to twirl you around the floor, little bird?"

His voice was deeper and harsher than usual, and slightly slurred from the wine. Sansa chose to ignore the expected jibe, and asked a question of her own.

"Aren't you supposed to be working? I don't see how you can protect Joffrey in the state _you're_ in." She leaned up against a tall black speaker, and crossed her arms over her chest. She fancied it made her look more imposing, although she knew she could tower over Sandor only if he sat on the floor, regardless of her Manolo Blahnik stilettos.

He scowled and took another deep swallow of wine. "Off tonight. My _brother_ is watching over Joff, I get to _enjoy the party_."

The way he spat out the word "brother" made Sansa curious. His answer just made her think of more questions. "Why are you here then? Hiding behind the bandstand drinking wine can't be much fun. Why did you come, if you're not working?"

He struggled to his feet, and Sansa was surprised he could stand at all. He brushed dust off his black trousers and leaned against the wall. Strangely enough, he wasn't scowling, but rather had a sort of half-smile on his face.

"I'm here same as you, little bird. I was _ordered_ to come. There aren't too many people in Westeros who don't do what they're told when it's the Lannisters doing the telling...even Starks." He nodded at her meaningfully, and took another sip of wine, his eyes never leaving her.

Sansa had no idea what he meant by that. Of course she had to come, Cersei was her boss. But what did that have to do with him?

"And maybe I'm hiding because I'm sad nobody as pretty as Loras Tyrell asked _me_ to dance." Here he smiled a bit wider. "Given up on Joff so soon, little bird?"

Sansa felt her cheeks flood with color, but refused to let his teasing get to her.

"As I'm sure you know, Joffrey gave up on _me_, not the other way around. I don't know why you have to be so unkind, I was just trying to make conversation." She flipped her hair over her shoulder and raised her chin a bit. She was determined to show him she wasn't going to be intimidated by his boorishness. (In the back of her mind, she really wanted to undo the impression of a scared little girl he must have of her from a week ago. After catching her hiding behind a plant, seeing her crying and running away, and then laughing at her jumping at the sound of his motorcycle, what must he think of her?)

Sandor laughed, genuinely, rather than the mocking laugh she usually heard. Sansa was amazed how different he looked, how a real smile transformed his face.

"Ahh...so polite. Yes, just trying to make conversation..." He kept looking at her and chuckled. Sansa couldn't see what was so funny about that, but she supposed lots of things seemed funny after two whole bottles of wine.

His chuckles died down, and he looked at her seriously this time. "It's not _you_, you know. Joffrey's just the same as the rest of us; he does what his mother tells him to do."

She must have looked confused, because he continued.

"About Margaery, I mean. It's nothing against you. Cersei told him to take Margaery as his date, so that's what he did."

Sansa had figured that out already, but it hadn't made her feel better. That only meant he likely asked Sansa to the ball originally because his mother told him to do _that_, too. Joffrey really was getting less and less impressive, the more she learned about him. Still, she didn't say anything back to Sandor; there wasn't much to say, after all.

But he was looking expectantly at her. Perhaps he thought that bit of information would be some kind of revelation? He must think her stupid. The thought made Sansa suddenly, surprisingly angry, and she opened her mouth to tell him what she thought of his assumptions, but he cut her off.

"Ah, doesn't matter to you, does it? You'll fall for him again, happy to chirp for him as soon as Cersei changes her mind, won't you?" He wasn't leaning against the wall anymore, and swayed a bit without its support.

The idea that he thought she'd be so shallow and silly was incredibly annoying to Sansa, and she felt her cheeks flood in anger this time instead of embarrassment. She narrowed her eyes at him as he drained the last of the wine in his third bottle. He threw it on floor, and it shattered against the hard marble. Sansa was proud of herself for not flinching.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, _sir._" Sansa always fell back on her courtesies to control her emotions. "No doubt Joffrey will be very happy with Margaery, but I really I don't care either way. And whatever Cersei says, _I'm_ no longer interested in Joffrey."

Sandor growled a bit and took a shaky step towards her. "Don't call me _sir_, little girl, I'll not have you mocking me." He stared into her eyes for a moment, and then let his gaze wander up and down her form slowly. Sansa could practically _feel_ where his eyes trailed over her body.

"It doesn't matter anyway. If not Joffrey, you'll chirp for some other pretty boy, like Loras Tyrell or someone else like him. You only sing for important people, don't you little bird?" He was definitely in her personal space now, but Sansa didn't want to back down, she refused to show any weakness in front of him. She couldn't step away anyway, as her back was pressed up against the speaker. But he was scowling at her again, and Sansa didn't like that. Her eyes involuntarily fell to his chest, where his shirt was slightly open, revealing more scars, hard muscles, and a peek of thick black hair.

He grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at him. "You know what I think, little bird? I think you should sing for _me_..." He looked her up and down again, and let go of her chin as suddenly as he had grabbed it. Sansa felt the loss acutely, and wondered at the tingles she felt run down her spine at the feeling of his rough hand on her face.

He took a step away from her, and shook his head slightly, as if to clear it. "But I'm not pretty like Loras Tyrell or important like Joffrey. That's what little birds like, isn't it?" The sneer was back in his voice, and Sansa felt the urge to smack him for being so insulting.

"You don't know what I like, _sir_. I'll thank you to not make assumptions about me or what's important to me!" Sansa was surprised at how angry she felt, and before she knew it, she was stomping off. Luckily she had lots of practice walking in these heels, so at least she could exit gracefully. The fact was _she_ didn't even know what was important to her anymore. A week ago, getting attention from attractive and influential men really _had_ been high on her list of priorities...

Sansa felt the tell-tale stinging behind her eyes, and was anxious to get away from Sandor before they turned to real tears. Why he could wind her up so much, she had no idea. She barely knew him, after all, and they didn't even really work together. But she knew she _wasn't_ as stupid as he seemed to think she was. She knew Joffrey was shallow and insincere, and that his attentions meant nothing. She _knew_ that the fate of her career was in Cersei's hands, and that it had more to do with the woman's moods than how hard or well Sansa worked. She didn't have to like these facts, but she knew them to be true. The nerve of that Sandor Clegane to imply she was a stupid little girl! He really was very rude.


	3. Two Weeks Later

_LadySansa:_

_Honestly its pathetic the way she pants after him. _

_JeyneP:_

_Maybe she really likes him?_

_LadySansa: _

_How could u like someone who dates u b/c his MOM tells him to? Ummm self respect, anyone?_

_JeyneP:_

_Weeelll, its not like he's hard on the eyes or anything. =)_

Sansa shook her head sadly, and wondered how Jeyne could be so clueless. It was unfortunate. Since there wasn't much to do in the office besides patrol the coffee maker, it would have been nice to have a supportive texting partner. Sansa sighed to herself, and chalked it up to yet another part of life that didn't go her way.

The elevator doors pinged, and Sansa's least favorite person in the world strutted into the room, his stupid face already plastered with a big, fake smile for Margaery. Sansa never noticed before now how ugly and wormy his full lips looked when he smiled. She made a herculean effort not to roll her eyes when she saw that he had _flowers_ for his lady this time, a bunch of roses in a sickly pink color.

Margaery, of course, was ecstatic, and was giggling and clapping her hands like a _child_. She was squealing about roses being _her favorite,_ and Sansa desperately wanted to take out her BlackBerry again and text Jeyne with this latest development, but she knew Jeyne would only ask what color the roses were.

Sansa really did roll her eyes at that thought, and caught sight of Joffrey's ever-present watchdog, Sandor Clegane. He was smirking at her, probably because he just caught her rolling her eyes at the shameless display going on across the room. Sansa smirked right back at him, and was secretly pleased to see him look slightly surprised. _I'm not scared of you,_ she thought smugly to herself.

His appearance was back to normal, quite a bit different from the drunken and disheveled look he was sporting at the charity ball two weeks ago. His suit was once again immaculate, but it was a dark, sooty gray rather than truly black. Sansa approved, because she always felt true black wasn't that flattering on anyone, no matter what the magazines said.

His hair was neat and tidy and tied back, and Sansa realized for the first time that his eyes were gray as well. She decided she liked him better with his hair down. The stuffy and put-together look wasn't really _him. _And while the suit fit him _very_ well, there was something intriguing about seeing him a bit undone, the way he was two weeks ago at the party. Sansa found herself wondering where he stashed his motorcycle jacket during the day. The thought made her smile widely at him, and she nearly laughed out loud at his expression that bordered on alarm.

Finally, Joffrey and Margaery were done sucking up to each other, and he turned to go into his mother's office without even looking in Sansa's direction. Margaery was humming to herself and fussing over her stupid flowers, and Sansa was having a hard time deciding which of them was more pathetic. Did she not remember that not too long ago (barely a month had gone by!), _she_ was the one being ignored, and Sansa was the one blessed by Joffrey's attention?

Sansa was not sure she could stomach a whole day watching Margaery simper and giggle over her ugly flowers, and desperately wished to be sent on an errand out of the office. Looking back at Sandor (she was somehow unsurprised to find him staring at her), she hoped instead that _Margaery_ would get sent on an errand. Then perhaps she could enjoy some interesting conversation at least, since Jeyne was not up to it via text. Sansa wondered when she started thinking of Sandor as a good conversationalist.

She busied herself with checking the coffee maker, desperate for something to do. After setting up a fresh pot, she shot another smile at Sandor just to see him squirm a bit, and settled down to yet another game of solitaire.

**ooOoo Later That Day ooOoo**

Seventeen games of solitaire later, Cersei swept out of her office and started barking orders.

"Margaery, get your coat. You're coming with us to lunch; there are important people I need you to meet. Sansa. Call ahead to the usual place and tell them to expect us _at once_. I will require my usual table, and I want it ready when we get there. _You_." Here she pivoted gracefully to face Sandor. In her Prada platforms, she was only a few inches shorter than him. "Your services are no longer required for today. It would be inappropriate for you to accompany Joffrey where we are going."

There was no need for Sansa to wonder if she was invited to lunch. She picked up the phone and called Cersei's favorite lunch restaurant and asked for the manager. Cersei _never_ made reservations, and never had to. Her favorite tables at all her favorite places were pretty much always reserved for her.

Cersei swirled again, and after delivering her trademark dismissive _"__that's all,"_ she headed for the elevators, Joffrey and Margaery trailing behind her like two obedient little ducklings.

After getting off the phone, Sansa looked up and realized that Sandor was still standing in front of Cersei's office door. The two of them were alone.

Sansa started up her eighteenth solitaire game, and decided to make conversation, if he was just going to stand there.

"So what does Sandor Clegane do with his time when he's not scaring people away from Joffrey Baratheon?"

As usual, he was smirking at her. "Just trying to be polite again, little bird?"

Sansa shrugged. "Something like that. If you're going to hang around here, you might as well entertain me."

He smiled wider. "Being nosy isn't very polite though, is it?"

Sansa looked up at him in shock, but he was smiling and she knew he was just teasing. Although they had only talked a handful of times, she knew he was unable to have a conversation without being snarky.

She rolled her eyes at him, and went back to her game. "Well, if you aren't willing to chat with me, I'll just go back to my extremely important work here." She put her nose in the air a little bit, and focused on her computer screen.

Sandor's deep, rich laughter filled the whole office. "Right. Your important work of improving your solitaire score?"

Sansa refused to confirm or deny his accusation, but wondered how he could see her computer screen from where he usually stood guarding Cersei's door.

"Good luck with your important work, Miss Sansa. I'm sure you'll conquer that solitaire soon enough." He kept laughing, but not in an unkind way, and made his way to the elevator. Sansa suddenly had the absurd urge to tell him she was actually quite good at solitaire. She supposed he was off now to ride away on his motorcycle, and she found she was sad to see him go, but couldn't think of anything else to ask him to make him stay. He smirked at her one last time before the elevator closed, and Sansa smiled back at him.

* * *

A/N: Forgive me for making fun of Margaery and Jeyne here, I really do love them. One more chapter to go!


	4. Three Weeks Later, Sansa Gets an Idea

_LadySansa:_

_Omg it was 2 funny, M didnt even get the joke! I nearly died trying not 2 laugh in her face!_

_JeyneP: _

_Umm...I guess u had 2b there? I dont get it._

Sansa sighed, and nearly gave up on texting. Jeyne was so silly sometimes. But it was nearly the end of the day...Sansa couldn't bear to make any more coffee, and had beaten her high score on solitaire an hour ago, so texting with Jeyne was the only option.

For the last few weeks, whenever Sandor was in the office with Joffrey, he had taken to making snide little remarks and jokes at Margarey's expense. Sometimes they were even at Joffrey's or Cersei's expense, but they were _always_ funny, especially because Margaery never seemed to get the joke, and replied seriously and earnestly every time, _without fail._ Sansa had nearly hurt herself containing her laughter so many times, she had lost count.

Perhaps the jokes did not translate via text. There was definitely something unique about Sandor's sense of humor that had to be experienced _live_.

_LadySansa:_

_I guess u did have 2b there. S has a v. unique sense of humor =)_

_JeyneP:_

_All u talk about is S these days! Isnt he only a security guard? U r not going 2 get ur job back hanging w/someone like him!_

Sansa frowned at her BlackBerry, as if Jeyne could see her disapproval. Perhaps Sandor was _only_ a security guard, but he made her laugh, and whenever he was in the office, hours seemed to fly by that were normally filled with drudgery. She supposed she _did_ talk about Sandor a lot, but it was only because he was the most interesting person she knew.

Sansa smiled to herself, remembering a day last week when she offered him coffee, figuring somebody might as well drink it, if she was going to make endless fresh pots all day long. Sansa herself preferred tea, and Margaery never drank any because Cersei never drank any. Sandor had only growled at her and said he'd rather have wine. It was another time she had to suppress a laugh. Sansa had begun to really like it when he added a bit of growl into his voice, especially when he was joking around with her. He was so cute when he tried to be mean and scary! Sansa couldn't help but wonder what Jeyne would say if she told her _that_!

There was another recent incident when Sansa had to work hard to contain her laughter. They happened to be in the elevator at the same time. It was the end of the day, and Sandor was going home, but Sansa was delivering paperwork to Accounting on the seventh floor. She had asked him about his motorcycle, hoping he would offer to give her a ride one day.

But Sandor didn't take the bait, and only smirked at her. Sansa had tried to cover up her clumsy hinting by saying she was only asking because perhaps she would get a motorcycle of her own one day, one just like Sandor's. He laughed, _of course._

He looked her up and down with a bit of a leer, and said: "I doubt a little thing like you could handle my big bike," and Sansa had repressed the urge to giggle at his innuendo. She was quite sure Sandor wasn't the type of guy to like a girl who giggled. "The _polite_ thing would be to offer to _show_ me how to handle it," she replied loftily, pretending not to notice the leer. He grinned and said she sure had a funny definition of _politeness_, but then the elevator doors opened on the seventh floor, and Sansa had to go.

Sansa's daydreaming ended abruptly, as Cersei was preparing to leave the office and was giving Margaery instructions. Sansa put away her BlackBerry and tried to look busy, although Cersei had no reason to expect her to be busy, since she never gave her anything to do.

As usual, a few minutes after Cersei left, Margaery asked sweetly if Sansa would mind finishing the project, as she nearly _always_ did if Cersei left something for her to do late in the day. Sansa didn't mind; it wasn't as if she had a social life, and it sure beat making coffee all day. Margaery beamed at her and said _"__you're the best!"_ as she always did, and Sansa just nodded and smiled.

Several hours later, night had fallen completely, and Sansa was finished doing Margaery's work. At least she got to use the nice computer, and didn't have to make any coffee. It was actually nice to have real work to do, even if Margaery would get the credit for it.

As she headed down in the elevator, somewhere near the twenty-first floor, her mind wandered to Sandor, as it often did lately. She wondered if he had already gone home for the day, or if she could find him lurking about somewhere. She was determined to get that motorcycle ride from him.

By the time the elevator reached the lobby, Sansa had decided to stroll through the security staff's cubicles, hoping to see him along the way.

But it was later than she thought it was, and the first floor was deserted. She wound her way through the offices and hallways on the ground floor, and met not a soul on the way. When she finally reached the back alley, full night had settled, and it was much darker back there than she expected. She was beginning to doubt the wisdom of her little plan, when she spotted Sandor's motorcycle parked just a few spots away from where she saw it the first time.

Happy to have found that he hadn't left for the day, she figured she'd just wait nearby for him, as he couldn't be much longer. It was late after all, and wherever Cersei was off to, Joffrey was probably not far behind. She was taking a closer look at the bike, wondering at his vanity plates that read "Stranger," when she heard a familiar raspy voice.

"Are you crazy, girl? What the hell are you doing out here alone?"

Sansa whirled around and was surprised to see that he actually seemed a bit angry.

"I was waiting for you, of course." She smiled, and he only looked confused.

"Sansa...how long have you been out here? It's dark and it's not safe. You shouldn't be wandering around in alleyways by yourself." Sansa only laughed a little at his scolding, but he seemed very serious.

She took a step closer to him, noticing finally that he was wearing his leather jacket, but that his hair was still neatly tied back. She took another step, and leaned against his chest, up on her tip-toes so she could reach the thin strip of black leather that held his hair back. She pulled it out of his hair, put it in her bag, and smiled up at him.

"I'm here to collect that ride you promised me."

Sandor's eyebrows shot up into his hairline, and he looked at her like she was crazy. "I'm sure I promised no such thing, little bird."

Sansa loved that he had a little nickname for her. Nobody had ever given her a nickname before. "Are you going to leave me all alone in this dark alley, then?"

He growled in frustration and rolled his eyes at her, but it only made her smile wider. "I don't have a helmet for you. It's not safe to ride without one."

"Oh, I don't mind. I trust you won't let anything bad happen to me."

Sandor shot her another _look_, but Sansa could tell he wasn't as mad as he was pretending to be, and that he was moments away from giving in. She was right, because a second later, he sat on the bike and told her to climb on behind him, and to hang on tight.

"So, if I do this favor that I supposedly promised you, what are you going to promise me?" He asked.

Sansa pressed herself up against his broad back, and snaked her hands underneath the front of his leather jacket.

"Oh, I don't know, Sandor. I've been told I have a pretty voice. Do you want me to sing for you?" He laughed, and they rode away together into the night.


End file.
